Next to Godliness
by geminicricket
Summary: James has had enough of Sirius's mess, but hey, they are wizards right? A sudden finsh and a fun oneshot. Reviews welcome!


_What happens when Sirius's mess gets out of hand? We don't own harry potter or any enclosed characters _

"Hey Padfoot? Is there any particular reason I found your "Copy of Advanced Potion Making" in my bed?' Sirius looked up from drawing a comic portraying a full moon at Remus, who stared at it hypnotically.

"I was wondering where that went! Professor Arastoo half beat me to death with Devil Snare tentacles when I didn't have it on me!" Sirius abandoned the moon drawing, and grabbed his slightly lint covered book, from James who adjusted his glasses disapprovingly.

"I want you to do something about this mess! Yesterday I found your wand sticking out the back of MY robes. It gave me three paper cuts when I tried to pull it out look!" James held up his fore arm, which had a surprisingly bloody scab, covering a thin cut. Sirius ran a hand thoughtfully through his dark hair, thinking it over, while Wormtail sat in a corner reading 'Hogwarts: A History' and Mooney looked as though he had just been sniffing Amortencia, dozy and bloodshot.

"Tomorrow James, I'm tired." And with that he retired to his bunk, taking care not to disturb any of the spell books or ink pots that were piled haphazardly around his bed. His flicked of the light, that gave the small room a comforting glow, and plunged his friends faces into darkness.

The next morning was started by James grabbing Sirius by the collar, pulling him from where he lay in bed, sunken in the mattress, to the ornate head board, holding up his forearm. What appeared to be teeth marks were scattered along the flesh.

"You are cleaning this room now! I was just woken up by one of your Fanged Frisbees and it bit me! I don't care what time it is! Its Saturday you can finish McGonagall's essay tomorrow, I will not take this anymore, get up and clean this room!" James was yelling now; spit flying into Sirius's eyes.

"Alright! Alright! I'll clean, I will! Just let me up you git!" Sirius pulled the blankets off himself and started staring around the mess their room had become.

There were ink bottles and text books halfway to the door, muggle clothes strewn from hell and beyond, coloring the floor like a rainbow, dark red and black shirts half melted together from a spell James had cast on them in a fit of jealous rage that he had been rejected by Evan's again. There were quills on every bed other than his from when he had been rummaging in his trunk, trying to find his spell check one, and stink bombs just waiting to be stepped on around the posts of his bed. A pair of his trainers flapping around, small white wings made of laces propelling the shoe through the air.

"Where's my wand? It must have been enchanting things again; I hate it when it does that! Remember when it dyed Mooney's hair blue? My left ankle has never been the same since." He pulled the bed hangings aside and found his wand, sleek and black, lying point down in the mattress, feathers surrounding the puncture wound.

"Where is Mooney anyway?" he asked, looking around, seeing neither Mooney, nor Wormtail for that matter, who would have usually backed James up, recalling the tails of how, well their tails had been brutally attacked one full moon, by a sock that had followed them down to the whomping willow, biting them, the result of another one of Sirius's wands adventures alone. The enchanting of other objects had started after he snapped it, during a quidditch scrimmage against James, and ever since, when ever not in his hand, things would suddenly come to life and start yelling abuse at only girls with red hair, or turning themselves into capybaras on a moment's notice.

"Down at the hospital wing, full moon tonight you see." James twirled his finger at his temple. Poor Remus always got headaches before he turned.

Sirius waved his wand, and instantly, as though pulled by invisible strings, all of his belongings started flying, crawling, hopping, running or hitch hiking, back into his trunk. Within seconds, the room was clean, and not even a sock, biting or otherwise, was not in place.

What exactly would his life be like without magic?


End file.
